


Awakened

by Bad_Dog_Fics



Category: Earthsea - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: Book: The Farthest Shore, Consensual Kink, Consensual Underage Sex, Demisexuality, Dom/sub, First Love, First Time, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Light BDSM, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Minor Canonical Character(s), Mutual Masturbation, Orders, Pansexual Character, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25555801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Dog_Fics/pseuds/Bad_Dog_Fics
Summary: "This lesson," the man intoned, "will be one of obedience to the will of another, and delaying of gratification. You can, perhaps, think of it as a game between the two of us. There will be no punishment if you disobey, only the knowledge that you have broken the rules and therefore forfeited the game. If there comes a point when you wish to stop the lesson, simply say the word 'Cease' or put your hands behind your back, and I will end the game at once. Understood?"
Relationships: Ged/Lebannen (Earthsea)
Kudos: 21





	Awakened

**Author's Note:**

> Arren/Lebannen is canonically 17, hence this is tagged as underage. Further, he is a virgin and has essentially had no sexual attraction to anyone prior to this fic 'cos he's demisexual. This is a riff on "but I didn't know I was ___!" "Well, everyone *else* did." Geb is pansexual and low-key aromantic. 
> 
> The idea here is that Geb awakens sexual interest in Lebannen by allowing him to express it through servitude. Geb has Been Around A Bit and knows what asexuality, aromanticism, demisexuality, and submission is - Lebannen doesn't, and thinks he's weird. Love and acceptance and "OMG there's more like me?!" vibes mixed up in a consensual mentor/protege May/December relationship. Geb definitely leads because Lebannen desperately wants/needs him to, but much of the actual sex acts are gentle, sensual, and allow (indeed, demand) Lebannen to stop anytime he wants - i.e. no forcible sex or aggressive manipulation. No pain or humiliation planned in this fic.
> 
> I'm ignoring UKLG's idea that wizards can't have sex 'cos it taps their life force, because that's no fun at all. 
> 
> This has more to it, but will be updated at a snail's pace.

They had not been a day or two upon the water when Arren awoke in the quiet of the night. He could not say what woke him, only that something was different and therefore a potential threat. He lay very still, eyes closed, reaching out with his other senses. His keen ears quickly picked out from among the soft slap of the waves against the hull of the boat the new, strange sound which had woken him: quickened, heavy breathing and a soft susurrus of fabric.

Fearing that his companion the archmage was caught in the throes of a nightmare or some sudden sickness, he sat up in haste. All he beheld was the wizard Sparrowhawk sitting upright in the prow with his back turned. As he opened his mouth to speak, the noises ceased, and the man spoke.

"Yes, Arren? What wakes you?"  
  
"P-perhaps nothing, my Lord," the boy stammered, perplexed. "I heard a strange noise and I thought you might be seasick."

Sparrowhawk laughed. "No, lad, I am quite well. I have been sailing for many years, and do not get the sickness of the sea as others do. Go back to sleep."

Arren pondered this for a moment. "If you are well, my Lord, what wakes you? Is there danger?"

The mage chuckled, then sighed, making some gesture in front of him as if adjusting his tunic. A small round spark of magelight formed over his shoulder, then floated down into the hold of the boat, providing more illumination than the moonlight overhead. He turned around, facing the boy.

"There is no danger, Arren," Sparrowhawk said with a wry smile. "Simply a man taking care of a man's needs."

Arren stared at him, confused for a moment. Then as the realization hit him, his eyes darted quickly to the crotch of the mage's breeches, which did indeed sport a sizeable bulge down one leg, clearly visible in the magelight. Ashamed to have looked, the boy instantly ducked his head, cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Even worse, as heat flared in his face, he felt an answering heat in his groin.

It was surprising enough to discover that the Archmage had urges just like any other man, but even moreso to have his own response. He was well aware of the ideas of love and lust, having grown up listening to ballads that sang of timeless romance and hearing his older sisters' whispered bawdy tales of men's conquests, but had yet to find anyone who sparked those feelings in himself despite being well past the age when most did. This had not gone unnoticed by his sisters, who often joked that he was "stunted" or "fey." He had long since learned to laugh good-naturedly at their jibes; he knew they meant him no lasting harm. In fact, his second-eldest sister had taken him aside, reassuring him that being fey was no great shame of itself, as long as he did his duty to the kingdom and married as his father chose. "It is a well-kept secret, little brother, but many royal marriages are thus," she had said. "If your interest lies to that road, you would be far from the first to have such an arrangement. You would not even be the first among your family! If you wish to speak on it further, you have but to ask."

But he had not sought out his second-eldest sister again. He had decided that his lack of interest was likely a boon, as his father had always been careful to remind him of his duty to marry "for the needs of the kingdom, not for the fickle wants of the heart," as well as strongly warning him of the many problems a bastard son would cause. His sisters had joked about spilling seed on unfertile plains, which Arren did not understand nor care to. His own hand sufficed, when necessary, and he was kept busy enough by the various duties of his station that he did not feel a lack in his life for want of a partner. But to feel that spark at last, and for the Archmage of all people! It was not simply ridiculous, it was acutely embarrassing. Not only that, but he had interrupted the man, he chastised himself. Even _he_ knew the pain that could cause. Why, oh why did he have to wake up?

A quiet chuckle from the wizard interrupted his racing thoughts. "I ask for your pardon," he said in his calm, unhurried voice. "I should have thought to weave a spell of silence around myself. But you appeared to sleep so soundly, I thought it was not needed. I do not mean to cause you offense, lad. Wizards are a bit less concerned about matters of impropriety than most royalty."

"I, It's not - I'm not offended, my lord," Arren hastened to reply. "I just - I feel badly for interrupting you."

"Do not worry yourself," came the firm reply. "We will simply agree to return to sleep and think on it no more." There was a rustling as the Archmage begin to rearrange his bedroll.

Scarcely believing he dared to speak further, Arren blurted out, "Could I not be of service to you, my Lord?'

The rustling stopped.

"Be of _service?"_ the wizard echoed in a strange voice. The awful silence that followed grew in length and pressure until Arren felt compelled to fill it.

"I... I have heard tales of the ways that men like to take their pleasure with other men," he stuttered.

"Have you, now," came the cold reply. "And do you think me such a man, little prince, that I would use a boy I knew for a matter of days as a catamite, bent over in the hold of a boat?" The words snapped out like a whip.

"No, my Lord - "

"Is that what they teach you in the kingdom of Enlad, that the mages of Roke bring lads along on their journeys to slake their unnatural thirsts when away from each other's company?" the mage thundered, rising to tower over him in anger.

"My Lord, I - "

"Or is it some nastiness you've cooked up in your own head, that you will be the blameless, helpless victim to my demonic, magic-fueled lusts? Faugh!" Sparrowhawk spat over the side of the boat head in disgust.

Shocked and dismayed beyond words, Arren fell to his knees in the bottom of the boat, head bowed, hands raised in supplication.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, little prince? "

Again the awful silence fell. Trembling, Arren dropped his hands into his lap. He at last found the strength to say, in a voice so small it was barely above a whisper, "I have heard no tales of the mages. I do not know the kind of man you are, Archmage. All I know is that I wish to serve, in a way I have not before."

There was a pause, and finally Sparrowhawk let out a long sigh. He settled again into a seated position in the boat, facing the kneeling boy a foot or so away. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and kind. 

"Arren," he said, "Again I must ask your pardon. It is not the first time I have been approached in such a manner, and I took it wrongly."

The boy remained kneeling with head down, shivering.

"Look at me, lad," he said, gently. Arren slowly raised his head to meet the mage's eyes. Instead of the rage he had heard, he found only compassion, and perhaps a little bit of amusement.

"Tell me, little prince," Sparrowhawk asked, "Have you ever dallied with a man before?"

Speechless, the boy shook his head.

"A girl, then?"

Another shake, and he dropped his eyes in shame.

"Ah." If anything, the mage's voice got even gentler. "Yet you say you want to serve. Have you felt the draw to serve any other?"

Arren, heartened by the compassionate tone, met the mage's eyes again. "No, my Lord."

"Hmmm," Sparrowhawk mused. "It is not a thing I would normally consider with a boy your age, much less a prince. It is a big risk you are asking me to take, allowing you to serve me in this way."

"I had not thought of it, my Lord"

"Of course not," the Archmage said with a chuckle. "Young men your age are not known for deep thought, if you will pardon me for saying so. But think now: if you were to tell another, they would not believe that you were the one to offer. Rather, they would believe that I was the one who took, the cold-hearted Archmage of Roke bewitching the only son of the prince of Enlad to be enamored of him in a way he had shown no other."

Arren dropped his eyes again. He was right, of course. No one would ever believe, least of all his father or sisters, that he had finally found someone who inspired in him the curiosity he had not innately felt before.

"There is a solution, of sorts," the mage mused. "When I first was taught magics, it was by a witch who charged me to stay quiet about what I had learned, ensuring my silence with a spell. Before I allow you to serve me in this way, I must train you. You will be learning a great deal from me, skills you may use upon others in your future. Would you submit to the spell of silence as I did, which will not permit you to reveal the name of your teacher?"

Arren thought a moment, then looked into the man's eyes. "I would, my Lord."

The mage considered him a moment, then nodded. He took a breath, muttered several words in the old tongue, and press the fingertips of his left hand to the boy's lips. Arren felt a ghostly pressure remain for the barest of seconds after the mage withdrew his fingers.

"It is done," he said, simply. "Of more importance to me is whether you are trainable. As royalty, you are used to giving the orders, not following them, and my training requires your utmost obedience."

Arren nodded. 

"Will you do as you are bid, without question or complaint?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"A fine sentiment. Let us test it."

Arren fidgeted nervously, unsure of what to do next and acutely aware of how woefully unprepared he was. Would Sparrowhawk stand over him again and use his mouth, as his sisters said men did? The very thought made his mouth run dry and his heart leap into his throat, not in fear, but in arousal. But the mage stayed sitting. In fact, he appeared to settle in, knees falling casually akimbo and the line of his shoulders relaxing. 

"Up with you, lad."

Arren scrambled to obey. He stood awkwardly, hands clasped behind his back as though he was a soldier waiting for orders. 

This earned him a smile. "Sit facing me, if you would," he was directed. Arren arranged himself on the bench seat behind him, his knees a handspan or two away from the mage's. He sat rigidly, knees together, hands bunched uncomfortably in his lap.

"Relax, lad," the wizard soothed, in the same quiet voice he had used earlier. "See how I am sitting? Try to do as I do." Arren closed his eyes and made a concentrated effort to relax, taking several deep breaths, but it was difficult to calm his pounding heart.

"Good," praised the mage. "Relax the big muscles in your legs. Lay your hands on your thighs, and let your shoulders drop. There you go, yes. Excitement is acceptable, fear is not. Now open your eyes and look at me." Arren open his eyes to see Sparrowhawk watching him intently.

"This lesson," the man intoned, "will be one of obedience to the will of another, and delaying of gratification. You can, perhaps, think of it as a game between the two of us. There will be no punishment if you disobey, only the knowledge that you have broken the rules and therefore forfeited the game. If there comes a point when you wish to stop the lesson, simply say the word 'Cease' or put your hands behind your back, and I will end the game at once. Understood?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Tell me in your own words what you understand."

"This is my first lesson in obedience to you. It is to take the form of a game, and no harm will come to me if I lose or forfeit. I may end the game at any time by putting my hands behind my back or saying the word 'Cease.' Am I correct, my Lord?"

The mage nodded, his smile deepening. "You are a fast learner, lad, and not a simple parrot. Well done. The rules of the game are thus: you will mimic my movements until I say 'Stop.' Then, I will mimic your movements until you say 'Stop.' Either of us may end the game at any time, but the purpose is to get the other man to say 'Cease.' We must stay where we are sitting and touch only ourselves, lest we forfeit the game. Understood?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Nod if you are ready to begin."

Arren took another deep breath, attempting to stay relaxed as he had been bid, a difficult thing in the face of his mounting excitement. His thoughts raced. Why did his heart jump like a petted dog when the mage praised him? He felt as if he would do anything to hear the approval in that gentle voice again. Was this how his peers had felt, his sisters? It was _intoxicating_.

He gathered his courage, met the mage's eyes, and nodded.


End file.
